


Entanglements

by Malana, TheCrazyGeek



Category: Thick of It (UK)
Genre: Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-11-14
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-13 05:10:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malana/pseuds/Malana, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCrazyGeek/pseuds/TheCrazyGeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were, it should be noted, no rumors that the baby Sam was carrying was Malcolm's.  A series of connected one-shots focusing on Jamie, Sam and Malcolm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rumors

There were, it should be noted, no rumors that the baby Sam was carrying was Malcolm Tucker's. Not even the barest hint of gossip to that effect had ever been uttered by anyone.

That is not to say that nobody thought the baby was Malcolm's. _Everyone_ thought the baby was Malcolm's. But nobody was brave enough to say it aloud. Most people were too afraid to even think it too hard, for fear that Malcolm would somehow smell it on them. Or, perhaps worse yet, that Jamie MacDonald would catch wind of it, resulting in the kind of horrors that would put even the writers of _Saw_ to shame.

Jamie had been protective of Sam ever since his reappearance at Number 10 some three days after Malcolm's own triumphant home-coming. No one was quite sure of the circumstances surrounding Jamie's return, just as no one knew the exact details of his exit several months before. Everyone was curious, certainly. But everyone also realized that this was one of those situations where curiosity would kill the cat only after it has been skinned alive, rubbed in salt, and possibly lit on fire.

Despite Jamie's new papa-bear streak, no one even considered the possibility the the baby might be his. The very idea of it was just too terrifying to be entertained. Jamie MacDonald was a force of nature. A horrible, scary, foul-mouthed, rage-filled force of nature. To contemplate him as a sexual being was simply too much to bear. In fact, Jamie's protectiveness was considered by most to be further proof that Malcolm was indeed the baby's father.

Even Jamie being seen reading a parenting book had not been enough to raise comment. Although, that was probably because Olly Reader was the only one to witness the event and when he had opened his mouth to offer a (not very) witty remark, the subsequent glare he had gotten from Jamie was enough to make him not only shut his mouth and back very quickly out of the room, but also to ask Nicola if it wouldn't be too much of a problem for him to knock off work early that day (for, he claimed not wrongly, health reasons).

Jamie and Malcolm were, of course, well aware of everyone's thoughts on the matter, unvoiced though they may be. But they also knew that in situations like this, denials were pretty much worthless, and often raised more suspicion than saying nothing at all. So, as long as nobody actually said anything out loud, they were content to leave things be. Well, Malcolm was content to leave things be. Jamie often wished someone would say something, just so he could rip out their intestines with a spoon and force-feed them their own bowels.

Sam, however, remained blissfully above it all. She gracefully accepted the baby gifts that appeared on her desk with alarming frequency from the various Scots, not really caring if they were mostly given to try to curry favor with her boss. She responded to various questions about her health, the baby's due date, etc (only asked if Malcolm and Jamie were out of ear-shot) with good grace and a calm smile.

Sam knew what everyone around her thought and how they judged her for it, but she just couldn't bring herself to give a damn. Because she also knew the important things: her baby was healthy, it was a girl, and it would be very well loved by two very overly-protective men.

One thing she didn't know was which of those overprotective men was the father.

But she didn't really give a damn about that either.


	2. Nursery

"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Sam jumped a little, looking up at the doorway from where she knelt on the floor. "Jesus, Malcolm, we really do need to get you a bell to wear around your neck, don't we? I didn't even hear the front door open. You just appear like some ghoulish foul-mouthed specter."

Malcolm flashed her a fierce grin. "Flattery isn't going to distract me now, luv. I ask again, what the hell are you doing?"

Sam rolled her eyes, gesturing to the objects that surrounded her. "Now I know that you aren't really familiar with manual labour, Malcolm, but even you should be able to tell what I'm doing with a screwdriver, a hammer, an instruction booklet, lots of bits of wood and a big open box with a giant photograph of a crib on it."

Malcolm just glared at her. "You are supposed to be taking it easy! I didn't give you the day off so you could exert yourself. You should be in bed with your feet up watching some crap reality show or something, not building things with your bare hands!"

"Oh for god sake! It's a crib from a box, I'm not erecting a bloody cathedral!"

Sam let out a groan when she heard the door to her flat open and slam shut. Jamie. That was just what she needed now. She could generally handle either of them on their own, but as a pair they could be rather difficult.

"Hello!" Jaime's voice rang out. "I brought food!"

"Jamie!" Malcolm shouted. "Get your ass in here and talk some sense into your completely mental girlfriend."

"Why is she always my girlfriend whenever she's doing something to set you off?" Jamie asked as he walked down the hallway to join them. "Oh, bloody hell, pet. What're you doing?" he asked as he stepped into the room. "You're supposed to be resting!"

Sam threw up her hands in frustration. "I'm trying to get the fucking nursery ready for the fucking baby that is currently growing in my fucking body."

"The doctor said you're supposed to take it easy."

"Jamie, I'm not running a marathon. I'm just putting together a crib and maybe painting the room."

"Painting the room!" Malcolm and Jamie both exclaimed.

Malcolm was fuming. "What if you fall off the ladder? Has this pregnancy completely destroyed your brain?"

"Anyway, the fumes aren't good for the wee bairn. We'll take care of this stuff"

"You two are impossible."

"Sam, you've seen me rip the guts out of people with my bare teeth for saying one negative word against MPs that I loathe with every fiber of my being. Do you really not think that I'm going to be be protective of my baby."

"Our baby," Jamie corrected reprovingly.

Sam sighed as she began to get to her feet, only to have Jamie at her side in an instant to help her up.

"I'm not an invalid. I'm only five months pregnant."

"Well then you don't need to get the nursery done tonight then, do you," Jamie pointed out.

"I wanted to take advantage of my day off," Sam huffed.

"Unless you want to rest of your future to be full of nothing but days off, I suggest you not pull a stunt like this again!"

Sam glared, arms folded over her chest. "Malcolm Tucker, did you just threaten me?"

"You know, Malc," Jamie said, hoping to avoid an all-out shouting match between the other two, "I'm pretty sure that most of the baby books I read said that stress is bad as well. Do you not think that shouting counts as stress?"

Malcolm shoot daggers in Jamie's direction, but nodded curtly. "Fine," he said evenly. "No more shouting."

Sam snorted. "And how long do you think you'll be able to keep that up?"

"We'll just have to shout twice as much at everyone else," Jamie suggested. He brightened. "Which reminds me, wait 'till I tell you what that little shit-weasel Reeder did now."

Malcolm grinned ferally. "Ollie? I only left the office half an hour before you did. What could he have done in that amount of time?" He clapped Jamie on the back as the two made their way out of the nursery, headed for the kitchen.

"Come on, Sam," Jamie called out, not even bothering to turn around. "You know if you don't I'm just going to tie you down to keep you from working anyway."

"He keeps rope in his boot," Malcolm offered helpfully.

Sam let out one last sigh as she surveyed the half-put together crib and painting supplies that were strewn across the floor. She shrugged, following behind her men as they planned something horrible to do to Ollie. She'd probably wake up in the middle of the night to find Jamie putting the crib together with duct tape and Malcolm attempting to paint by scaring the colour onto the walls. She'd end up fixing it all herself the next time she was alone in her flat anyway. But for now there really was no point in fighting them.


	3. Tests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'm finally writing this story again. I hope to have more up soon.

_A few months earlier…_

Sam wasn’t a stupid woman. She knew the signs of pregnancy. She wasn’t one of those girls on the Jeremy Kyle Show who give birth in a toilet thinking they just ate a bad curry. 

But, smart as Sam was, she also had a job that kept her quite busy, and she wasn’t aways as attentive to her own health as she should be. So, it was only on the fourth day that she had to run from her desk to the lavatory to throw-up that the idea she might be pregnant began to dawn on her. 

As soon as it did, however, it was all that she could think about. Her leg bounced restlessly while she sat at her desk, her mind racing. She could probably get some time at lunch to run to the chemist. But she couldn’t take the test at the office. There were just way too many nosy, gossipy people around. 

Malcolm noticed, of course. Sam being distracted at work was quite an anomaly. She was the best PA he’d ever had and having to give her instructions more than once was pretty much unheard of. 

“Sam, are you alright?” Concerned as he was, they were always careful with how they acted toward each other at work, so when Sam waved the question off, Malcolm didn’t press further.  
———-  
On Tuesdays they’d normally head over to Malcolm’s, but Sam made an excuse and went to her own place instead, with a quick stop to get a pregnancy test. She knew that Jamie and Malcolm would want to know what was going on, but she didn’t want to worry them for no reason. 

She managed to keep her hands from shaking long enough to pee on the stick, but she never realized how long three minutes could be. She tried to breath deeply, telling herself to keep calm. She was probably wrong, she told herself. They practiced safe sex. It was 99% effective, she reminded herself when the timer rang and she reached a trembling hand towards the test.

“Fuck me,” she whispered under her breath. Somebody had to be the 1%.

————

Sam decided she couldn’t handle the trip to Malcolm’s, so she called him and Jamie, and told them to come as soon as humanly possible. 

She was sitting on the sofa when the duo burst into her flat, Malcolm looking even more ashen than usual, and Jamie’s face a mask of worry. 

When they saw the way she looked, and the tears in her eyes, they were at her side in a instant. 

“What happend, pet?” Jamie asked. “Who do I need to kill?”

Sam leaned into Malcolm’s arms for a moment, as she tried to keep herself from breaking down sobbing. 

Then she pulled away, shaking her head as she stood up and started to pace the room. Sam could normally hold her own, even with Jamie and Malcolm, but now she was having trouble forming words.

She looked at them, sitting on the couch, looking so worried about her, and felt like her heart would break. 

“Jesus Christ, Sam,” Malcolm said at last. “If you don’t tell us what’s going on, I think my heart’s going to explode.”

“He’s only ever a couple of steps away from an aneurysm as it is,” Jamie offered. “Do you really want to be the one to push him over the edge?”

Sam buried her face in her hands briefly, before she looked up once more at the men she loved. 

“I’m pregnant,” she said, barely a whisper. 

But it was loud enough. 

Malcolm and Jamie stared at each other for a long moment, then looked back at Sam. 

Malcolm sank back into the sofa, rendered speechless for once.

“Someone please say something,” Sam begged. 

Jamie cleared his throat. “Pregnant. You’re pregnant.” It was half way between a statement and a question.

Sam just nodded, not able to meet his eyes. 

“That’s….that’s….” 

Sam winced, prepared for Jamie to start yelling. 

“That’s the best fucking news I’ve ever fucking heard!” He practically lept from the sofa. 

Sam looked up at him then, stunned. 

“What?”

“I’m gonna to be a da!” He pulled Sam into an embrace, then settled a hand on her stomach in wonder. “There’s a wee lil’ baby in there. Can you believe it, Malc? Malc?”

The smile that had lit up Sam’s face at Jamie’s joy faltered as they both looked at Malcolm, who remained motionless on the sofa. 

“Malcolm?” Sam said tentatively, and she knelt down in front of him taking his hands. ”Are you okay? Please say something.”

“I’m going to be a father?” Malcolm asked at last. ”A father, to an actual human…baby…person.”

Jamie laughed and he sat down next to Malcolm, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Well, I don’t think she’s giving birth to a wolf cub.”

“You never know,” Malcolm said. “If _you’re_ the father anything is possible.”

Sam let out a small sigh of relief. Malcolm insulting people was far was worrying that Malcolm being speechless.

“Are you angry?” she asked. 

Malcolm stared at her, a million emotions flickering over his face. He reached out a stroked Sam’s face. “I’m not angry, love. I’m just shocked. And a little worried. I mean, fucking hell, we aren’t exactly in a normal relationship here. How is this going to work, exactly? I mean, if you’re keeping the baby-“

Jamie cut him off. “Of course she’s keeping the fucking baby! Don’t you go putting crazy ideas in her head.” He looked at Sam, suddenly worried. ”You are keeping the baby, right?”

Sam nodded. ”How could I deny the world a miniature MacDonald or Tucker?” she said with a shrug.

“It’s going to be fine, Malc. We’ll sort everything else out later. Can ya not be happy just for a little bit? Worry about the details later.”

Malcolm closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, a slow smile spread across his face. He leaned forward, placing a quick kiss on Sam’s lips, then turned and did the same to Jamie. 

Jamie and Malcolm pulled Sam onto the sofa between them. She quickly snuggled in, her head on Jamie’s chest, her legs curled up on  
Malcolm’s lap. This was compliacated, and there was plenty to worry about. But they’d work it out.

Malcolm had been right, their relationship wasn’t a normal one. It was so much better than that.


	4. Names

“Gràinne.”

“No.”

“Malamhìn?”

“No.”

Malcolm rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the back-and-forth between Jamie and Sam as he read his paper. It had been going on for quite awhile. At first, he had found it cute, but it had started to wear thin. 

“Caointiorn.”

“No.”

For reasons known only to himself, Jamie was convinced that the baby needed to have a Scottish Gaelic name. 

Sam disagreed. Malcolm did too, but for once he was happy to stay out of the argument and let Sam handle it.

“Why are you only suggesting girl names?” Sam eventually asked.

“Because we’re having a girl,” Jamie responded.

Sam sighed. “We don’t know that.”

Malcolm shook his head and remained focused on the paper. This, too, was a familiar argument. 

“It’s a girl!” Jamie insisted. “An adorable wee lassie, and stop saying anything else. Boys are fucking disgusting.”

“Jamie, that’s terrible! What if it it is a boy? Stop staying stuff like that.”

“Don’t worry, love,” Malcolm said calmly, from behind his paper. “If it’s a boy, Jamie will simply devour him whole, like the monster he is.”

“It doesnae matter, anyway! I’m tellin ye, the bairn is a girl!”

Sam threw up her arms. There was no point arguing with Jamie when he got that Scottish. 

“Fine. Fine. How about Anna,” Sam suggested.

“No.” This time it was Malcolm who rejected the name, finally putting down the newspaper.

“What’s wrong with Anna?” 

“Anna McPherson at the Globe,” Malcolm explained. 

“Hannah?” Sam tried again.

“No, that’s the name of that bitch who works for Evan in transport.”

“The one with the too-small ears?” Jamie asked. “Yeah, we’re not using fucking Hannah.”

Sam rubbed her eyes in frustration. “Well, if we eliminate every name shared with someone you two hate, it’s going to be a bloody small list to choose from. We’re going to have to name her Fanta.”

“Beautiful name, that,” Malcolm said with a laugh.

“Fionnghuala.”

“No,” Malcolm and Sam both said flatly.

“Nothing wrong with Fionnghuala,” Jamie grumbled. “I had a great aunt Fionnghuala. Lovely woman. Used to feed me biscuits all the time.”

“No,” the others repeated. 

“Alice?” Sam suggested.

“Tory MP,” Malcolm said simply. “Called me a bullying thug at a dinner last year.”

Sam just shook her head and got to her feet. “All right. Enough for now. I can’t fucking stand it anymore.” She patted her slightly protruding stomach fondly. “Come on, Fanta, let’s go make some tea.”


	5. In the Kitchen

Malcolm had just fished his keys to Sam’s flat out of his pocket when the door opened and Sam herself came storming out, a dark look on her face.

“What’s wrong?” Malcolm asked, instantly concerned. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay?” 

Sam shook, as she absently patted her stomach. “Fanta and I are fine. It’s him that’s the problem.” She waved a hand towards the door she had just come out of. 

Malcolm let out a sigh. “Jamie.”

“Who else?”

“What did he did do now?”

“He’s…he’s…” Sam threw up her hands in frustration. “He’s just impossible!”

“Sam…” Malcolm began patiently, but she cut him off. 

“No! No. I need to get out of here for a bit. I’m going for a walk. Either get him to stop being crazy or get him out of my flat!”

“Love, it’s pissing rain. You aren’t going anywhere.” He gently took ahold of her elbow. “Let’s go inside.”

“He’s a horrible man, and I hate him.”

Malcolm suppressed a smile. ”Yes, yes. He’s an absolute monster, but we both love him anyway, so let’s go work this out, alright?” 

Jamie had seemed to be getting on Sam’s nerves as of late, leaving Malcolm to play mediator, not a role he was particularly used to. Jamie was always incredibly protective of the people he loved. As Sam’s pregnancy progressed, that reached whole new levels, and it was driving Sam mad.

Sam looked at Malcolm plaintively as he took her arm. ”He’s making me mental!” 

“I know, I know,” Malcolm muttered as he lead her back inside. 

“Malcolm, he’s trying to cook!” she whispered. 

He stopped momentarily in his track and ran a hand over his face. “Oh, fuck me.” 

——-

It wasn’t so much that Jamie was a terrible cook. Most of the food he made was quite good, even if he was prone to rather unusual combinations.

But he was incapable of cooking neatly. 

No matter what he was making, he seemed to dirty every dish and pan in the kitchen. Every available surface ended up piled with pots or covered in scraps of food. Even the walls didn't come out of the experience unscathed. 

This time was no exception. Malcolm turned to Sam and suggested that she sit down and put her feet up.

Sam left gladly, but not before calling over her shoulder, “Make him tell you what he did!” 

Jamie didn’t turn around from the stovetop as he called back. “I didn’t do anything wrong!” He shook his head, glancing at Malcolm. “Really, she’s completely overreacting.”

Malcolm decided to let that go for the moment. He gave Jamie a quick kiss hello.

“What are you making, anyway?”

“Chicken soup.”

Malcolm surveyed the wreck of the kitchen. “Did you slaughter the chicken in here?” 

“Shut it,” Jamie said mildly, shaking a spoon at his lover. “It’s one of Sam’s favorites, and it’s nourishing for the wee bairn.”

Malcolm nodded absently. He leaned back against the counter and instantly regretted it as his hands ended up in an unidentifiable substance.

“What did you do?” he asked, trying to get whatever the fuck it was off his hands. 

“I didnae do anything!” Jamie insisted.

“Then why is Sam so angry?”

Jamie was silent, pretending to be focused on his soup.

“Jamie…” Malcolm’s voice took on a threatening tone. 

“I…may have had a bit of an altercation with Ollie Reeder this afternoon.”

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. “Why would Sam be upset about that?’

“Because, he nearly threw him down the stairs.” Sam was standing the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest.

“He knocked you over!” Jamie exclaimed. “He could have hurt the baby!”

“He didn’t knock me over! He barely even bumped into me and it was an accident.”

“I was just being protective.” 

“I’m not an invalid!” Sam shouted. “I can take of myself! I don’t need you to throw a twat down a staircase for touching me.”

“To be fair to Jamie,” Malcolm interjected, “he’s always been straightforward about his twat/staircase policy. You cannae say you didn’t know what you were getting into.”

“You are not helping, Malcolm.”

“Sure I am, Sam. I’m just not helping you.”

“Look, pet,” Jamie offered, “I just couldn’t help it. Reeder’s got a face longing for a punch as it is. You’re carrying our child? What do ye expect me ta do?”

Sam just glared at them both for a long moment. 

“Fine. Whatever. I’m going for a bath.”

“Do you want any company?” Jamie asked hopefully.

“No,” Sam said simply as she turned to leave. ”And clean up my damned kitchen.”


	6. The Lift - Part One

Being stuck in a lift was no one’s idea of a good time.

But being stuck in a lift with Ollie Reeder was quickly becoming Sam’s idea of personal hell.

It wasn’t that Sam hated Ollie. She knew Malcolm and Jamie loved to terrorize him, but to her he was just sort of vaguely annoying and mildly amusing in his pathetic cowering in front of angry Scots. A few years back, he had asked her to dinner, probably thinking of the possible benefits of getting close to Malcolm's PA. She had politely declined. Or rather, she would have if she had gotten the chance. Unfortunately for Ollie, Malcolm had overheard. Ollie had fled from the subsequent abuse before Sam had been able to respond. He had been rather skittish around her ever since.

Now they were trapped in a lift. Ollie had been coming back from getting lunch, and Sam was delivering some files Malcolm needed to give DoSAC a proper bollocking over their latest screw up. She could have sent a courier or one of any of the numerous young Party workers who had the dubious honour of getting assigned to work for Malcolm (it was a make-or-break assignment, and most broke). But, Sam had been feeling restless all morning, and was happy to get in a bit of exercise.

A decision she was now regretting in the face of being stuck with Ollie’s awkward attempts at conversation. Neither of them had usable mobile reception, but they’d used the lift intercom and had been assured that help was on the way. Though that had been a very long 15 minutes ago.

“Soooo….” Ollie began.

“Yes, Ollie?”

“You’re pregnant, then.”

Christ. “Well-spotted,” she said dryly. 

“How’s that going for you?”

Sam stared at him. To be fair, he looked even more miserable as she felt. She took pity on him.

“You know, you don’t have to be afraid of me.”

Ollie looked at her in surprise. “What? I’m not afraid of you!” But he didn’t sound entirely confident.

Sam leaned against the wall of the elevator and crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay, maybe not exactly. But you ARE afraid that you’ll say the wrong thing and I’ll go running to Malcolm.”

“Or Jamie,” Ollie added. ”I generally prefer to keep my skin attached to my body.”

“I’m not six years old. I’m not going to go running to mummy and daddy if you hurt my feelings.”

There was a pause and Sam could see Ollie struggling not to smile. 

“Just out of curiosity,” he asked, “which one of those two is mummy?”

Sam smiled a little, and shook her head. “You know, comments like that are what get you into trouble.”

“In my defence, I do actually know that, yes.”

Sam let out a sigh as she glanced at her watch. She looked at the bottom of the lift, contemplating how dirty the carpet might be, then decided she didn’t really care and slid down to the floor. With a bit of a shrug, Ollie soon joined her. 

“Although,” Ollie ventured, “most people would probably be surprised to hear you describe Malcolm in parental terms….and I just crossed a line, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” Sam said wrly. “Yes, you did. That either took an incredible amount of guts or an incredible lack of brains. I’m not sure which.”

“As I don’t want those guts spread all over the building, anyway for me to get out of this conversation?”

Sam considered, than nodded towards the bag by Ollie’s feet. “Give me half of your lunch. I’m starving.”

“I guess half a chicken sandwich isn’t too bad a payment for my life. He started emptying the bag. “I also have a packet of crisps and some jelly babies.”

Sam’s eyes lit up. “Jelly babies will definitely ensure my silence.”

As he handed over half of his food, Ollie checked his mobile for the umpteenth time. “Do you suppose we’re ever getting out of here?”

Sam shrugged. “I’d be grateful, if I were you.” She ate a bite of sandwich and continued. “Malcolm’s on a bit of a rampage at the moment. DoSAC was at the top of the bollocking list. I think he even brought Jamie with him.”

Ollie closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “Okay, stuck in a lift doesn’t seem that bad then. I really thought he was gone for good after the Nutter fiasco. He’s actually been even worse since he came back.”

Sam waved him off. “Oh, nonsense. Jamie’s a puppy dog” 

Ollie let out a snort. “Yes, of course. A puppy dog. Maybe if Cujo mated with a rabid werewolf.”

Even Sam couldn’t keep a straight face at that. She had witnessed enough to know why people were terrified of him. 

They continued to eat Ollie’s lunch and make idle conversation. Sam, to her surprise, found she was rather enjoying herself as she listened to Ollie’s behind the scenes tale of Nicola’s most recent disastrous public appearance. 

She was tearing the head off a jelly baby when it happened. 

“Oh!” she exclaimed as her hands flew to her stomach.

Ollie immediately looked panicked. “Oh god. Are you okay? Is something wrong with the baby?” He knelt beside her, looking helpless.

She shook her head wildly. “No, no. Nothing wrong. It just kicked. I haven’t felt it kick before. Oh, that is fucking weird.” She was so excited she didn’t even notice when the lift started to move again.

“Wait, feel this.” Wanting to share the moment with someone -anyone- she grabbed Ollie’s hand and placed it on her stomach. 

Which was when the doors to the lift opened, revealing a rather worried looking Malcolm and Jamie.


	7. The Lift - Aftermath

“Oi! Gaylord McTwatface! Get your hands off of her!”

At Jamie’s shout, Ollie scrambled to back away from Sam and get to his feet. He held up his hands in surrender as Jamie stalked toward him, backing Ollie up against the wall of the lift and grabbing his shirt.

“Jamie!” 

Jamie stopped dead at the tone in Sam’s voice. 

She looked at him sternly. “No murdering Ollie.”

“Why not?” Jamie practically whined. 

Her eyes narrowed. “Because he was very nice and shared his jelly babies with me.”

“And that means it’s okay for him to grope you?”

“Nobody groped anyone!” Ollie yelped.

“Shut it, Gumby,” Malcolm warned. “Are you alright, love?” he asked Sam as he ushered her out of the lift.

Sam rolled her eyes. “Jesus, I’m fine. We were stuck in a lift, not stranded on a mountaintop.” She looked at Jamie, who still had Ollie pinned to the wall. 

“And leave him alone! He didn’t grope me. I felt the baby kick and I wanted to share it with someone, and there weren’t exactly a lot of options in there.”

In a flash, Jamie had let go of Ollie and was by Sam’s side. “The bairn kicked?” he asked, wonder in his voice.

Sam nodded, smiling broadly at Malcolm and Jamie. She looked past them to Ollie and winked at him, motioning with her head to indicate that now would probably be a good time for him to make his escape.

Ollie looked at the trio, wondering, not for the first time, what exactly was going on there. But fear out-weighed curiosity, and he decided Sam was right, he really should take advantage of the other two men’s distraction, and he moved quickly down the hall and out of sight.

“Is the lass still movin’ about?” Jamie asked. 

Sam took his hand and placed it on her stomach, then did the same with Malcolm’s. “Just wait a second. See it happens again,” Sam said softly, not even bothering to argue about the baby’s gender as she normally would. 

Both men jumped when the baby suddenly kicked again. They looked at each other, wearing matching stunned expressions. 

“Jesus, Malc. Did ye feel that?”

Malcolm just shook his head, for once at a loss of words. 

“Yeah, looks like little Fanta has decided to make his or her presence known in a big way. I can’t image I’ll get used to that anytime soon.” Sam smiled and let go of there hands, swinging her bag off her should so she could get Malcolm the files he had requested. “I didn’t miss the DoSAC bollocking, did I?”

With his focus dragged back to work, Malcolm seemed to recover slightly. “Nae, we started with some o’ the other departments first.”

Sam laughed. “Poor, Ollie. He was hoping being stuck in the lift meant that he had avoided the screaming.”

“Fat fucking chance,” Jamie scoffed. “He’s due extra kicking now.”

“What? Why?” Sam asked. “I told you he was nice.”

“He felt the baby move before me or Malc!” Jamie exclaimed. “That’s un-fucking-acceptable.”

“We were stuck on a lift, and I’m the one who put his hand on my stomach,” Sam reasoned. “That’s hardly fair.”

Malcolm chuckled. “Since when has this psychopath given a damn about fair?”

“He had his perverted poxbridge paws on ye. That’s no’ gonnae stand.”

Sam crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, if you want to put your paws on me again, you’ll leave him well alone.”

“Ye cannae be serious, pet!” 

Sam didn’t say anything, just continued to stare levelly at him.

Malcolm rested a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “I’d say she’s pretty damn serious.”

Jamie threw up his hands in defeat. ”Fine! Fine. I will nae break his legs or anythin’. I swear.” He shook his head as they continued on to DoSAC’s offices. “I cannae believe you’re sticking up for Ollie fucking Reeder.”

Sam shrugged. “He gave me jelly babies. I like jelly babies.”


	8. Convincing Her - WARNING: EXPLICIT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is massively not safe for work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was co-written by TheCrazyGeek. She was kind enough to write the porny bits for me. I hope you enjoy. If you like it, you should head to her page and check out her stuff.

“Malcolm, ye need tae get tae Sam’s place. Fuckin’ now.”

Malcolm felt a cold dread settle over him as quickly got up from his desk, scrambling for his coat. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his heart in his throat. “Is she alright? Is the baby alright?”

He heard muffled shouting on the other end of the phone. There was something that sounded like someone pounding on a wall or a door, and then Jamie yelling. 

“Sam, I’m gonnae break the fuckin’ door down. Ye know I will.”

“Jamie!” Malcolm barked. “What hell is going on?”

There was more pounding. Then:

“She’s locked herself in the bedroom and won’t come out!”

Malcolm sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “What did ye do this time.”

“Oi! I didn’t do anything!” Jamie protested. 

“Jamie, ye always do something. If the wee lass is angry at ye, it’s because ye did something. So, what did ye do?”

There was a pause on the line. 

“Malc,” Jamie began, and Malcolm could hear the desperation in his voice. “Sam is nae angry. I could deal with angry. I’m fucking good with fucking angry.” Another pause. “Malcolm, she’s crying!”

“Fuck,” Malcolm swore softly. Jamie was not good at dealing with crying women. Not that Malcolm was much better, really. “I was just getting ready to leave anyway. I’ll be there soon.”

When Malcolm got to Sam’s, Jamie was pacing outside the closed bedroom door. Under different circumstances, Malcolm probably would have found the look of desperate relief on Jamie’s face comical. 

“Ye want tae tell me what’s going on?”

“What’s going on is that that wee bint has lost her mind and I’m about tae break the fuckin’ door down!” Jamie shouted in the direction of the bedroom.

“Go away, Jamie!” Came Sam’s muffled reply.

Malcolm motioned Jamie out of the way and knocked softly on the door. “Sam, love, it’s me. Why don’t ye open the door and tell me what’s going on. Whatever it is Jamie did, I’m sure he’s sorry about it.”

“Just leave it, Malcolm.” Sam said.

“Love—”

“No!” Sam interrupted. “I’m fat and hidieous and I’m just going to stay in bed forever. Fuck off!”

Malcolm turned to Jamie once again, silently mouthing “What the fuck?”

Jamie threw his arms up in frustration and pulled Malcolm towards the living room. 

“What did ye do?” Malcolm repeated.

“Fuck you,” Jamie spat, glaring at him. “Ye really think I told her she was fat and ugly or something? I’d like tae think ye know me better than that!”

Malcolm let out a sigh. “No, no. Of course not. Not tae her. But why is she in there crying?”

Jamie threw himself down on the sofa. “I dinnae even know! I was trying to be nice!”

“Well, I don’t think she’s crying over how nice you were.”

“I was taking her for a surprise night out, remember? I booked a nice restaurant and everything.”

“I am still failing to tae see how this ends with the wee thing locked in the bedroom bawling.”

“She cannae fit intae any of her nice clothes. When I went in, she had a mountain of dresses at her feet and she was crying. Then she threw a shoe at me, shouted for me to get out, and locked the door.”

“Jesus.”

“I’ve been trying tae calm her down ever since, but she will nae listen tae me.”

Malcolm ran a hand through his hair, thinking. Yelling was his usual go-to method of fixing things, but that wasn’t going to work here. 

“Go grab me one of her hairpins from above the bathroom sink.”

Jamie raised an eyebrow, “You’re going to pick the lock?”

“It’s not exactly a bank vault,” Malcolm said with a shrug. 

A few minutes later, Malcolm was knelt in front of the bedroom door, a pair of bent hairpins in his hands. Despite his bravado, it was proving more difficult than he had thought. Jamie looming over him didn’t help. 

“You’re pathetic,” Jamie said quietly. 

“I don’t see you trying!” Malcolm shot back. 

“I’m not the one who said I knew how to pick a lock,” Jamie countered. 

“Look—” Malcolm started, but was interrupted by the door opening. 

For a second, Malcolm thought he had actually succeeded, but there was Sam, standing with her hand on the door knob, looking exasperated at the pair of them. 

“What on earth do you think you’re doing? I’ve heard you fiddling around out here for the past 10 minutes. ”

“Picking the lock?” Malcolm offered tentatively. 

She sighed, crossing her arms across her swollen stomach. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she was wearing a slightly tatty robe, but to Malcolm and Jamie she was just as beautiful as she had ever been. 

“Well, can you move so that I can go have a shower?” 

Malcolm scrambled to his feet. “Sam—”

“You’re beautiful, love,” Jamie said simply. 

“Don’t start!” Sam warned. 

“You are!” Malcolm insisted. He reached out, wiping a tear from her face. He could feel her resistance fade a little, as she pressed her cheek to his hand. 

“I’m sorry, Jamie. I know you wanted to do dinner, but I just can’t face it. I don’t want to do anything other than take a hot shower and go to bed. I’m sorry.”

Jamie waved off her apologies. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t feel up to, Sam. I just wish you’d believe us when we tell you how incredible you look.”

“Shower and bed.” Sam repeated. 

“You want company?”

“No,” Sam said, but Malcolm and Jamie exchanged a smile at the hesitancy they heard in her voice. 

———————

Standing in the shower, the warm water washing over her tired body and cascading off her swollen abdomen, Sam was practically propped up by Malcolm and Jamie who had insisted on coming in. Thank god they had a large bathroom and a massive shower cubicle.

Jamie picked up a bottle of shower gel and squirted some into his hands – passing it to Malcolm to do the same. They arranged themselves so Jamie was kneeling in front of her and Malcolm was standing behind her and started to gently rub her body – Jamie working on her ankles as Malcolm started on her shoulders.

“You’re gorgeous love” Jamie said and smoothed his hands up her calves. “I wish ye’d fucking believe us”

“Aye, come on sweetheart” Malcolm continued further down her arms, “You wouldn’t be pregnant if we found you totally fucking disgusting”

Sam gave a little start as Malcolm’s hands stopped what they were doing and reached around to rest on her bump.

“Love, I can honestly say you’ve never looked more beautiful than you do right now – our wee child inside you”

Jamie’s hands reached up and replaced Malcolm’s on her stomach while he continued upward and round to clean her breasts – cupping them in his large hands as he did so.

“Aye” Jamie agreed. “Ye’re havin’ our bairn for fuck’s sake. Do ye know how fucking amazing that makes ye?”

They finished cleaning her and helped her out of the shower, wrapping her in towels and leading her to the bedroom. They dried themselves and her off as much as possible, then Malcolm laid her down on the centre of the bed and curled up next to her – Jamie taking up a similar position on the other side.

Malcolm raised himself up on one arm and leaned over her. “Look love, are you going to believe us or do I have tae prove it?”. 

“Fuck it Malc, lets prove it anyway” Jamie retorted and ran a hand slowly down her body. “Should cheer the wee lass up”

Malcolm swiftly followed suit and soon Sam was relaxing into the soft covers from the sensation of both her lovers gently stroking her skin from shoulder to hip.

Malcolm and Jamie’s wandering hands met on her swelling abdomen and linked fingers, resting on top of the life they had created. Both of them raised up and leaned over her to gently kiss each other, slowly, teasingly. If she was honest, Sam found the sight of Malcolm and Jamie kissing, stroking, fucking each other to be an immense turn-on. Her mind skipped briefly back to about 6 months ago when she’d been just exhausted after a long day and Malcolm and Jamie had shaken the bed springs beside her with their frenzied lovemaking. 

She’d been damn close to coming just from watching them and, after they’d both groaned through their orgasms, she’d been pulled further down the bed and Jamie had shuffled between her legs and licked her. He’d suckled on her clit and she’d moaned desperately as she shuddered to climax in Malcolm’s supporting arms.

Back to the present though, Malcolm and Jamie were peppering her body with soft kisses and touches that both relaxed and excited her. The excitement grew more acute as both of them worked their way across her growing waistline and up to her breasts.

“Guys” she breathed “I think it’s only fair to warn you that if you keep doing that you’re going to have one hell of a horny expectant woman to deal with”

Malcolm snorted as Jamie chuckled at this and drew his tongue across one of her nipples as Malcolm did the same with the other.

“Luv, I think me an’ the auld fucker feel the same way. Seeing you grow with our child makes us, well, fucking horny as hell. Right Malc?”

“Aye. I’ve had a fucking hardon since the first day ye started to show”

“So we’ll have no more yap about bein’ ugly right?”

Jamie nuzzled her neck on one side and then kissed along it repeatedly. Soft butterfly kisses at first but soon becoming more insistent and passionate as he worked his way to her face and stole her breath away with a deep, long, kiss. 

She couldn’t help but gasp around Jamie’s tongue as Malcolm licked a long stripe from her breast to her shoulder and then sucked hard on the junction between there and her neck. 

Malcolm’s hand stroked along her cheek and tilted her head away from Jamie to face him. He kissed her softly, gently, purring quietly as he did – the rumble of his throat sending wonderful sensations down Sam’s body. She’d never admit it but nobody did slow burning passionate kisses like Malcolm when he was in the right mood. 

Jamie, of course, had his own talents which he was demonstrating by simultaneously running his fingers over the back of Malcolm’s wrist and suckling gently at one of her taut nipples. Nobody multitasked like Jamie either. 

Sam moaned as her two men conspired to reduce her to a quivering mass of nerves. Jamie raised his head from her breast at the sound.

“Hey Malc? I got an idea”

A strained ‘hmmmm?’ was Malcolm’s response, not ceasing from moving his lips slowly against Sam’s.

“Jus keep doin’ that” Jamie replied and with infinite care rolled Sam gently over onto her side so she was facing Malcolm. Malcolm, to his credit, never missed a single kiss during all that and used his large hands to steady her and ensure her pregnancy wasn’t causing problems with the new position.

Spooning up behind her, Jamie slid his erection gently against her lower back and hummed happily as she trust back against him. His hand slid lower, oh so politely coaxing her thighs to open enough for him to gauge how aroused she was, sighing deeply as her wetness slicked his fingers.

“I need tae be inside ye love” he whispered against the nape of her neck while gently rotating his fingers around her cleft, “gonnae make ye come”. Sam shuddered with anticipated delight and moaned happily as she felt Jamie’s fingers slide inside her a few times then followed by the thick width of his eager cock entering slowly. 

Jamie’s arms wrapped around her and Sam moaned as Malcolm stopped the pleasurable assault he had been making on her, but as she saw him take Jamie’s fingers into his mouth and suck her wetness off them she temporarily forgot to breathe. A choked moan came from behind her as she clenched hard around Jamie and she bit her lip as he started thrusting back and forth, slowly at first but quickly picking up speed. His fingers, now slick from Malcolm’s tongue, returned between her thighs and brushed near her wet folds teasingly.

Malcolm was kissing her again, moaning and caressing her breasts in his large hands. Sam reached out for his lithe body and ran her fingertips down from his chest to his hips and then around.

Malcolm gasped and broke away from Sam, throwing Jamie off his stride to ask “what now ye daft fuck?” Jamie leaned up enough to see Sam’s hand stroking up and down and knew what she was up to. “Ahh ye clever girl”.

The rhythm of their bodies writhing together drove out all worries, all concerns, all thought. There was only the three of them lost in pleasure, hands and tongues and anything else employed in the pursuit of their desires. Without words or gestures they speeded up simultaneously, a kind of bedroom telepathy controlling their moves; doing exactly what was needed to bring the maximum enjoyment to the others.

Moaning against Malcolm’s lips, Sam felt the slow tensing between her legs grow rapidly into a heavy pulsing that spread across her body, growing harder by the second. 

“Think she’s comin’ Malc” Jamie gasped. “I ken feel it”. Sam barely had time to make a noise of assent before she was, shuddering and crying out louder than she’d ever done, barely aware of anything but that overwhelming pleasure and relief and the steadying touch of her lovers.

 

—————

Later, they lay sprawled in Sam’s bed, Malcolm lazily tracing his fingers up and down Sam’s arm. Jamie was curled up on the other side of her, an arm draped protectively over her stomach. 

“So, do you believe us now, pet?” Jamie asked, kissing the back of Sam’s neck. 

“You did make a pretty good argument,” Sam said drowsily. 

“Pretty good?!” Malcolm protested. “That’s it. Time for round two.”


	9. Doctor Who?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Sam discuss the important things in life.

"You're wrong."

"Jamie, it's an opinion. It can't be wrong."

"Yours is. It's fuckin' wrong. Obviously being stuck in bed all day has driven you mad. MALCOLM!" Jamie turned and shouted out the bedroom room. "The mother of our child has lost her mind!"

"Don't fucking try to drag me into it!" came the reply. 

Sam rolled her eyes and adjusted her pillows for the 100th time that day. Being confined to bed was not agreeing with her. But, due to slightly alarming high blood pressure, she was stuck like this for at least another week.

Which had led to watching a staggering amount of Doctor Who. Which had in turn led to the current argument. 

"What's wrong with Tennant!" Jamie demanded.

Sam let out a sigh. "There's nothing wrong with Tennant. I didn't say there was anything wrong with him. I love Tennant I just love Matt Smith more. That's allowed."

"Not for the mother of my child, it's not!" Jamie leaned forward in his chair. "This is a Tennant household and shall remain such."

"We're in my flat, Jamie. And even if we weren't, I will prefer whichever Doctor I please. And if Doctor Who is still on when Fanta's old enough to watch it, he or she can choose her favourite on her own."

"You are corrupting her in the fucking womb!" Jamie cried, emphasizing, as he always did, the female pronoun. 

Sam laid a hand on her stomach and glared at Jamie. "Stop shouting. Stress is bad for the baby."

Jamie looked apologetic for a moment, then narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Oi! You're just saying that to try to get out of the argument."

Sam swore under her breath. She had really thought that would work.

"Besides, since when do you not like Eleven?" she asked.

"He's fine love, but he's not match for Ten."

"You cried at Vincent and the Doctor."

Jamie's eyes widened. "I did no such fucking thing!"

"Sure you didn't."

Jamie glared at her, but Sam just stared placidly back at him and he waved it away. 

"Tennant's just fucking cooler. And he's better looking. And he's Scottish."

"Wait," Sam protested. "You can't count him being Scottish. His Doctor isn't Scottish! That doesn't count."

"It fucking counts!" Jamie insisted.

"Matt Smith is quite attractive as well." 

Jamie shot her a look. "You have terrible taste in men."

Sam let out a derisive snort. "Yeah, that's rapidly becoming clear."

"Oi!" 

Sam shrugged. "You're the one who said it."

"Now, granted, Eleven had the best Companion," Jamie offered.

"You and your Amy Pond fixation."

"Hot Scottish leggy red-head with a bit of snark to her? What's not to love?" Jamie sat back in his chair and went quiet for a moment. Then a smile crossed his face. "Hey! Amelia! How's that for the wee one's name?"

Sam sighed. "No."

Jamie looked disappointed. "Why not? Nothing wrong with Amelia. It's a fine name!"

Sam just shook her head. "It's not going to happen, Jamie. I love Amy Pond. I really do. But there is no way we are naming our child after a character who you have not infrequently masturbated to."

"That..." Jamie trailed off. "Actually, that's a fair enough point."

At that point, Malcolm stuck his head in the room. "Pasta's done. Jamie, help me bring in a tray for Sam."

Sam groaned. "I can come to the kitchen!"

"Not fucking happening," Malcolm said, pointing a finger at her. "Stay in the goddamned bed."

Jamie stood and started to follow Malcolm back to the kitchen. 

"Malc, who do you reckon is better, Tennant or Smith?" Sam heard him ask, their voices trailing down the corridor. 

"Doesn't matter," came Malcolm's reply. "Tom Baker's better than both of them any day of the fucking week."

"You're as daft as Sam!" she hear Jamie said, before their voices became indistinct.

Sam slumped back against her pillows once more, grumbling. This bed rest thing could not end soon enough.


End file.
